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Duplicity IC Inbox [ un: jbenjamin ]
you've reached jack benjamin. clearly, I have better things to do.
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you've reached jack benjamin. clearly, I have better things to do.
you've reached jack benjamin. clearly, I have better things to do.
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And you're about to get another hour if you don't start being a little more appreciative.
[ look at all the nice things he's doing for you, steve. giving you a pretty space on the wall, putting his lips on you, letting you borrow his tie and his scarf. and now, pacing over to his side, to run his palm down the back of steve's shoulder blade, a smooth motion down the curve of his back, over his hip, and down to his ass, where it slows, lingers, squeezes just to feel the muscle tense. ]
Maybe I should just leave you here. Tied up and waiting. Dripping and ready. [ the last part is punctuated by a single finger, starting at the root of steve's dick, and tracing up the underside of it, dragging through the slick precome that's run a little river down his cock, all the way up to his crown, briefly lighting over the slit before pulling away. ]
Might be nice. Come home from work, use you however I want. [ jack steps in, body to the side slightly, so steve can't rut against him, and his lips find steve's skin again, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, down to a nipple he licks over. jack's teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, before he sucks it between his lips, swirls his tongue over the flesh, then pulls off again to purr his words out against steve's body. ] Touch you, taste you. Fuck you into the wall. Relieve some stress.
[ jack waits, glances back up to the nail, examines steve's face, his body, how he's holding up. but he doesn't move away from him this time. if anything, jack presses closer, until steve can feel his against his hip, his dick rock hard through the thin fabric of his slacks. another caress up steve's back, and down again, as he waits him out, let's him center.
finally, a hand comes to circle his poor, neglected cock, soaked with steve's own fluids that slick the slow, lazy stroke jack gives him. one turns into two, and jack's palm twists sweetly around his cockhead, his lips on his skin again, sucking up red welt over his ribs. he keeps a steady rhythm, then speeds up gradually, more and more, until he can feel steve about to come and—
his hand is gone, body is gone, lips are gone. jack step completely back from him, leaving steve deprived entirely of touch and any sensation besides the wall at his back, the cool air on his skin and the ache in his body. ]
Show's back.
[ and off he goes. see you in another ten to fifteen minutes, steve. by the way, welcome to edging.
just to rub it in, and because he knows steve can hear him, after he flops back onto the couch, the zipper of his slacks sounds, the metallic clanking of his belt being undone, and then, after a moment, the slippery-wet sound of jack stroking himself languidly with steve's precome still coating his hand. ]
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an impossible goal, it turns out, with jack still talking and touching his cock like that. steve can't help the breathy, quiet little grunts being pushed out of him by his own overworking lungs, and his hands fist above his head, then flex, then fist again. fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows jack wouldn't do it but for a second he wants him to, wants to be the toy jack pulls off the shelf when he's feeling lonely. no responsibilities, no wars to fight, nothing to do but please jack and keep himself blank while he waits to be needed — and he would be needed, because jack cares about him. not just a toy, a prized possession.
it's difficult to get the leverage necessary to grind his hips upward, and pointless, too, because there's nothing to grind into, but steve's hips begin working of their own volition and he pants into the skin of his underarm. jack keeps talking, and steve's cock is so hard he almost feels like he's going to come now, without being touched at all — and then jack steps against his side and steve's hips jerk, he pushes himself just a little higher, biting his lip against the moan that threatens to leave him. there are lips on him, slowly making their way down his chest, and when they reach a nipple steve gasps, head dropping hard back against the wall. his cock still works the air, searching for some kind of friction —
it's clear, during that little moment of pause that steve is fine. or, well, turned on beyond belief, so hot and hard his dick's almost flushed purple — but mentally, he's fine. a flush has spread from his cheeks down his chest, his nipples are tight and hard and as red as the rest of him. his lips are wet and swollen from being bitten and licked so much.
he looks wanton. desperate. not quite in subspace, but riding the razor's edge.
jack steps in closer, presses himself against steve, and steve almost sobs with relief, trying to rub his cock against jack's chest — jack takes pity on him, takes him in hand, and steve moans, mouth slack. it's so good, he's so close, it will only take a few strokes — jack sucks at the skin of his ribs and that makes it even less, he's so fucking close he's gonna come, he's gonna come, he's gonna —
jack steps away and this time steve does sob, body tight, held at the precipice for a few moments before it starts to ramp back down. wildly, he almost tears his hands off the nail and just says fuck it... but that would disappoint jack, and much as steve wants to come he wants to please jack more. so he stays, uncomfortably hard and uncomfortably stretched out, panting into the tv-broken quiet.
and then there's the sound of jack's zipper and the quiet, wet sound of jack stroking his own dick, and steve's mouth waters. ❱
I want — ❰ jesus, is that what his voice sounds like? all breathy and far away? ❱ I want to taste. Please.
❰ maybe if he asks nice jack will let him, next commercial break. ❱
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jack doesn't respond, acts as if he hadn't heard him, as if steve never spoke. he doesn't get his attention right now. as much as that voice makes his breath hitch, his cock jump in his hand, and his heart thud in his chest. not even mentioning what he said. this show isn't even near worth watching when steve's over there, sobbing for jack to put his hand back on his cock. just his hand, and god, he's such a gorgeous piece of work like this, unraveling and shaking and fucking pleading for him.
the show can't pass fast enough, and as much as jack would like to charge over there, cut steve down, and let him take as much a taste of his cock as his throat can handle, when the commercial break comes and he stands, tucking himself back into his briefs and setting his pants right again, it isn't towards steve that he walks.
instead, it's back further into the house, and he's whistling again - the tune from Kill Bill because it amuses the shit out of him - so Steve can hear where he is, how far away, and when he starts pacing his way back out. this time, he does head towards him, and if Steve's listening close enough, he can hear Jack's breathing is labored, as if he's carrying something heavy, because he is. to be exact, two fifty-pound dumbbells. there's a thud as one is set on the floor, and the other he takes in two hands, lifting it up and setting it onto one of steve's shoulders, the bar fitting snugly between the muscle of steve's arm and his neck. then, the second one, on the opposite shoulder. after making sure they're balanced there, he steps back, satisfied. for jack, his shoulders would be dead in seconds holding them there. for steve, it should only be an extra minor annoyance. another level of something to concentrate on.
the bigger concern is keeping them there. if they fall, they're heavy enough to do some serious splintering to jack's nice, hardwood floors. and you don't want to do that, do you, steve? after a pause, surveying his work, jack finally answers steve's request. ]
What do you want to taste, Steve?
[ yes, he heard you. no, he's not giving you what you want yet. not until he gets a little more in return. ]
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so yeah, he's still fucking uncomfortably hard by the time the commercials hit, but he's at least able to breathe normally. his calves and arms are just beginning to feel a hint of strain, but it's nothing he can't ignore. steve waits for jack to come back over, tensing a little in anticipation...
but jack walks away. steve can't see him but he can hear him, can hear his whistling getting further away, and steve groans, thumping his head against the wall behind him. paradoxically, his dick gets a little harder at the abandonment.
when jack begins to return, steve lets out a breath of relief — though that doesn't last long. as soon as jack hears the thump of the dumbbell he tenses, and he almost jumps out of his skin when jack settles first one then the other in the crooks where his arms and neck meet. it's fucking cruel, and rude, and steve just rolls his shoulders slightly to test their lay so he can make sure not to drop them.
fucking hell, jack is good at this. steve's almost entirely underwater by now, only hanging on by the barest amount of irritation and worry he still feels. ❱
You, ❰ is steve's immediate answer, and then the realization that that won't be enough for jack. there's a moment of hesitation, a nervousness that he still hasn't fully been able to evade yet, before he licks his lip and says ❱ Your cock. I want to suck you.
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stepping up close, jack's hands come to steve's cheeks, kissing him too sweetly over his cheek bones and jaw and lips, speaking in a soft, sugary tone. that is a lie. ]
I know you do, and I'm sure you'd be great at it. But how do you plan on doing that from up there? [ asked mock-innocently, like Jack doesn't know full goddamn well that steve can't suck his dick while he's strung up on the wall. but that's exactly what he means - he's not going anywhere yet. one of his hands sinks lower, over his throat, and tightens, pressing the back of steve's neck against the wall, pressure rapidly building. ] I said an hour, Steve. And I meant an hour.
[ He's not Bucky, and he's not spoiling you. you're doing so good, steve, just keep going. ]
Thirty more minutes. Do well with these, and maybe I'll reward you next time.
[ 'these' being the dumbbells. jack releases him, letting steve breath, and moves away for a second, grabbing a chair to pull back over in front of steve, taking a seat not a foot or so away from him. after a moment, steve will feel jack's touch against his swollen dick again, brushing so so light along the underside of him. his hand circles the head of his dick, not pressing in firm enough to mean anything in advancing his state, but his thumb does brush idly against the leaking tip. and the hand stays just there, not moving. ]
Now. Fuck my hand.
[ if steve's guessing jack might pull off him right when he's about to come again, he'd be right. he's still telling him to do it, so steve had best do it, if he wants to get his lips on jack's cock some time tonight. ]
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jack's hand closes around steve's throat and he chokes, tensing to keep from trying to rock his hips. he's swimming, he's almost under, steve can practically feel the fog settling in —
and then jack lets go and steve gasps in a breath, shuddering and still aware, even if only by inches.
maybe it is only bucky. maybe jack can get him close, but bucky's the only one who can really take him down. that'd be okay, steve wouldn't hate that so much — bucky his as much as he is bucky's. they're two halves of one whole, they couldn't do anything that would hurt each other. bucky wouldn't use this against steve ever.
steve's so caught up in his own half-aware thoughts that when jack's hand circles around his dick he jumps, making the dumbbells wobble and his calves finally give the barest bit of a twinge as he has to resettle his muscles in ways that strain the tie and the nail the least and him the most. how the fuck is he supposed to fuck jack's hand like this, without dropping the dumbbells? yeah, yeah, the point, his head, but still. taking a deep breath, steve rolls his hips forward, carefully, less fucking into jack's fist than sliding through it. it takes a moment for him to catch a rhythm that doesn't endanger the tie, or the nail, or the dumbbells, but once he does the motion of his hips gets dirtier, more obscene, as he works himself back up to his peak.
please don't pull away this time, he's been good, he's done everything that's asked of him —
when jack pulls away this time, there are actual tears in steve's eyes. ❱
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he's at least kind enough to raise back up to steve's height, passing a thumb under his eyes to wipe away whatever tears might've escaped, as he presses his forehead against his. ] You're doing so good. Just a little more. [ he whispers, and kisses him softly, sweetly, promising he's almost done. he won't go the whole hour, jack decides, but he won't cave after he just told steve 'no' either. with that, he leaves, and it's back to the TV.
the show plays, and jack couldn't tell you what happened in that fifteen minutes if you held a gun to his head. he's entirely too busy deciding what he's going to do with the man near writhing against his wall right now, pleading to fuck his throat on jack's cock. in the end, he decides he is cutting it short. 45 minutes is enough, and steve's still so new to this. time to put him under.
there's no games when the commercials hit and jack gets back up. as he paces over, he's tugging at the buttons of his shirt, prying it open and dragging it off his shoulders, discarding it somewhere between the couch and steve. he reaches for the dumbbells immediately, and silently takes them off, setting them aside. ]
Turn. [ a short, curt command, and his hands on steve's shoulders help him to pivot around without dropping his arms until he's facing the wall, and jack's pressing his body flush against his backside. his belt buckle jangles as he tugs it open, and there's that sharp, sliding sound when he yanks it free from his slacks. soon after, the leather passes over steve's shoulder, lays against his adam's apple, and loops back around to his back, where jack threads the end through the open buckle. ]
I know I can't fuck you. I know you're Bucky's. [ Jack grinds out, as if assuring steve that it isn't what's about to happen, voice strained and harsh, as he wraps the end of his belt around his left hand, then pulls it tight, cinching in around steve's throat fast and hard. slacks fallen low on his hips, jack's cock is only separated by the damp layer of his boxer briefs when he grinds up against steve's ass, the throbbing hard line of his dick lining up perfect with the velvet soft seam between steve's cheeks. his right hand reaches around to take steve's length in hand, jerking him firm and fast and merciless. jack may as well be fucking steve for how hard he's rutting against him, and it's a good fucking thing he made sure to keep his briefs on, because he's right up against steve's hole, and if a slip were to happen, it would hurt like a bitch for the virgin in the room.
with each roll of his hips, jack pulls back harder on the belt, twists his palm around Steve's cockhead, and despite the chaos of it, he's counting seconds in his head, keeping track of how long steve's going without air. with hope he comes quickly enough jack doesn't start to get worried - don't be scared, steve, he's not pulling away this time. you won the game, you get to come. and once he does, before he's even halfway through spilling hot over jack's hand, he leans up to growl next to his ear - ]
Break the fucking tie, Steve. [ he knows you can do it, just shred the stupid piece of shit, jack has a million ties, and he doesn't even like that one much. ] Break it and get your mouth on me.
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again, steve takes the time between commercials to try to recenter himself. it's harder, he really wants to come, he's never been denied like this before, but he tries. he tunes into his body, feels the stretch and the tension of his limbs, the precarious balance of the dumbbells, the aching hardness of his cock. it's been a long time since steve has really checked in with his body like this, and it's a good reminder. proof that no matter how many times he looks in the mirror and sees someone else, this is his body. it's wide and strong and tall in all the ways he never used to be, but it's the body he's used to kiss bucky and jack and peggy and tj, and it's the body he uses to fight for the things he believes in.
it's his body, and he likes it, even when it doesn't always feel like his. he'll have to thank jack for reminding him of that.
the commercials begin, and steve turns his attention outward again, straining to hear jack's movements. there's the quiet shift and swish of fabric, maybe he's getting undressed? his steps stop in front of steve and one by one the weight of the dumbbells is lifted off his shoulders. steve rolls his shoulders, but doesn't have time to appreciate the new freedom before jack gives him an order, one he frowns at but follows with jack's help. it feels... strange, somehow, to be turned to the wall, ass out, but before steve can worry too much about that there's the sound of jack's belt buckle. he is undressing, finally, thank —
the leather of the belt slides over steve's shoulder and encircles his neck and steve just straight up stops breathing, before jack even starts tugging he just stops breathing and falls under.
he's — floating, or he's sinking, or something, he doesn't know. he doesn't need to know. he loses time for a moment or two, static filling his ears and his mind going blank. he comes back to himself just in time to hear jack call him bucky's and steve nods — he is, he's bucky's, jack is helping him right now but it's bucky he belongs to, it's good jack knows that —
the first time jack ruts up against his ass steve gasps and shudders, tries to curl in on himself but he can't do that without pulling down on the nail and he remembers, no tearing the tie, no ripping out the nail. his hands scrabble at the wall, nails dragging through paint, and when jack gets a hand on him he keens, tensing and pushing back and then forward, he can't choose whether to fuck himself back on jack's cock or forward into his hand the result is an uncoordinated, desperate rocking. these noises keep being punched out of him with every thrust, these sharp, wild breathy noises, sex noises, made even dirtier by the belt around his neck and the way he almost gags on them. jack isn't going to fuck him but steve wants him to, moans every time the head of jack's cock batters at his hole. it's so much, it's overwhelming, steve's stopped even trying to keep up with jack and is just standing there for him to use.
his orgasm catches him entirely unawares, choking into his own arm one moment and shaking apart the next. it's the most intense orgasm steve has ever had in his life, almost euphoric from the lack of air, and he whites out for a long moment before he comes back to himself with jack growling in his ear. it takes steve a long moment to follow the command, tremors running through his body and his mind swimming, but as soon as he can process language again he flexes his wrists, snapping the tie. he twists around to face jack and falls to his knees in one smooth motion, sighing deeply in satisfaction — fuck, he loves being on his knees — and reaching to pull jack's briefs out of the way. as soon as jack's cock springs free steve's mouth is on him, sucking him down as far as he can. ❱
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Fuck, Steve, you're so goddamn good. You did so, so good. [ and jack's honestly proud of him, he pushed through all the crap he submitted him to. there's an ache in jack's voice, straining because he wants him so damn bad. when steve's lips are finally around his heavy, leaking cock, and he watches him take his dick as far down as his throat will let him, the moan jack lets out is loud enough to carry to Vanessa's across the hall. his mouth feels like heaven, and jack's fingers twine in the gorgeous gold of steve's hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but even still, he can't help rhythmically carding through the strands, damp with sweat as jack combs it back from his face adoringly, encouraging.
jack wants to be careful, doesn't know how well steve can handle his gag reflex, but his hips still roll forward, easing against the back of his throat, cupping the back of steve's head to pull him further down on his dick, careful careful so careful not to hurt him. once he feels himself push past, though, that's all jack needs, a keening sound punched out of him at the sudden tight, tight squeeze of steve's throat around him. he fucks deep into him, loving the slide of steve's lips along his shaft, and the color bright on steve's cheeks when he pulls back only to thrust back into him. ]
God alfuckingmighty, you look so incredible. I could watch you do this all damn day. [ Jack rambles, because he talks, it's just what he does, letting steve go at his own pace intermittently to let him catch his breath. his hand at the back of steve's head, his thumb rubs massaging circles just behind steve's ear, in between the times he strokes his hair back, periodically curling tight in his hair again when he wants to pull him back down, take control, and fuck his throat again. ]
Just like that, all the way down.